


Piacere

by sushicorps (Inclinant)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bittersweet, In no universe is my Lunyx self going to see Luna end up with Noct instead, M/M, Marriage, Post Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-31 04:45:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15112064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inclinant/pseuds/sushicorps
Summary: The Crown of Lucis commands the presence of Prompto Argentum, to the marriage of His Majesty, the Dawn King,  King Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV and Her Majesty and Oracle, Queen Lunafreya Nox Fleuret.Scrawled underneath had been this:...Prom I don’t know where in Lucis you’ve run off too but please...please, I need to see you.





	Piacere

The heat of ten printing presses roaring is overwhelming, but that’s what one gets when real estate is still scarce in a city still half in rubble.

 

Prompto just barely makes it through the clutter of desks and wires, narrowly ducking out of the way as a stack of drafts goes flying through the doorway and slips into Mateo’s office, pushing the rattling wooden door close.

 

His boss’ eyes narrows from behind a clutch of slightly crumpled papers

 

“ _No_.”

 

Prompto throws his hands up in protest  “You haven’t even heard what I have to say!”

 

“What’s there to hear, Prompto. You’ve been complaining about this palace assignment for the past month-”

 

Fair point, but still.

 

“I know, I know-” He starts and Mateo groans, throwing the papers in his hand down on the desk and pinching the bridge of his nose. Prompto vaguely notes that there are five coffee mugs on his desk, in varying states of dark sludge. Printing day coinciding with Insomnia’s biggest event in the three years since the Dawn was really doing a number in the main office it seemed.

 

“See, what I don’t get is most people would jump at the chance to enter the Citadel-”

 

“It’s not-”

 

“Much less a photographer given the chance to cover the King’s wedding,” Mateo gives him a pointed look and Prompto gives up.

 

“...Alright, you _have_ a point.”

 

Well, almost.

 

_“But-_ ”

 

Mateo scowls at that, sending his chair scooting back with a loud screech as he stands.

 

“It’s the King’s wedding Prompto, we have to cover it. If you’re one of those with an issue with royalty, take it up some other time when I have more photographers available.”

 

“You’re a bit of a bastard, you know, Mat,”

 

“Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment as a businessman in this shit economy where I can’t even get enough paper on printing day. How am I supposed to announce the King’s wedding to the adoring masses huh?!”

 

“Now get going. And take that intern with you. I can’t believe half my journalists came down with allergies this week. Now I’m left with you and that kid barely out of high school to send to the Palace. If Meteor goes bust, Dorden will have my _head.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Avis, the intern, is a bundle of nervous excitement that only seems to spike as their queue moves ever closer to the media entrance to the hall. Prompto kinds of relates, remembering a time in his life where everything related to the Citadel seemed so much larger than life. Now it’s just...this crumbling building still being patched up, a place that he wishes he isn’t so familiar with. He stares once more at the patch job over the stained glass window lining the corridor, wondering who on earth had approved duct tape for a centuries old ancient masterpiece.

 

They are almost at the entrance to the hallway when he turns to see Avis frantically rummaging through her bag with a growing look of horror on her face.

 

“I...I think I left my media pass back on my desk!”

 

Prompto just sighs and picks up her rucksack from the floor, pressing her notepad back into her hands and slipping his pass over her neck.

 

“C’mon, you don’t want to miss the ceremony.”

 

Avis looks close to tears.

 

“B-but what about you, what about the photographs, I can’t believe I messed even this up, Mateo’s going to fire me-”

 

“No one is going to get fired now,” He says, pressing down on gently down on her shoulders to get her to still. “Besides, for all the crap Mateo says, he doesn’t have half the journalists he wants or needs. Your job is safe and secure, little miss.”

 

Avis doesn’t look convinced, but nods warily.

 

“I’ll be fine, I’ll join you in a little bit. If anything happens, just text me alright?”  He gives her a comforting pat on the back and then nudges her to the guards to get her pass checked out. The guard glances at him, then waves Avis through.

 

“Now in you go kiddo, you’ll be fine without me for a bit yeah?”

 

“Sir, I’m afraid I cannot let you in without a pass-” The Crownsguard repeats again, trying to look stern for all that he looks barely out of his teens. Prompto knows Cor’s recent Crownsguard recruitment had lowered the age requirement, but this is just ridiculous.

 

“I know, I know-” He fishes into his jacket, fingers curling around the thin cream envelop that he had, in a moment of painful indecision, grabbed just before leaving his apartment this morning.

 

“Will this suffice?”

 

Prompto pulls out the invitation and tosses it to the guard, who eyes him suspiciously as he draws out the card. The handwritten gold lettering of the invitation flashes starkly against the black card. On it, there’s a name he hasn’t used, next to the titles he left behind when he walked out of the Citadel two years ago.

 

**_The Crown of Lucis commands the presence of_ **

 

**_Kingsglaive, Councillor and Trusted Advisor to the King_ _  
_ _Prompto Argentum_ **

 

**_To the Marriage of_ **

 

**_His Majesty, the Dawn King, King Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV_ **

 

**_And_ **

 

**_Her Majesty, Oracle of the Dawn and Queen of Tenebrae, Queen Lunafreya Nox Fleuret_ **

  


Scrawled underneath had been this: _...Prom I don’t know where in Lucis you’ve run off too but please...please, I need to see you._

 

But Prompto had tore that part away.

 

Some gall of Noct to invite him to his wedding like this, he’s going to eat all the damn wedding cake - Every. Single. Slice.

 

It’s made even better because Prompto is about a hundred and one percent positive that Ignis probably baked it and Noct probably hasn’t had the chance to taste any of it….or even have any cake in the recent months if he is to fit into his royal getup. Ha.

 

“Guard Rowe, I heard there is a hold-up, is there a prob-?”

 

“Chief Amicita!”

 

Prompto blanches at the last name, almost makes to run on instinct till it clicks that the voice had not been the low, gravelly pitched one of a certain King’s Shield, but instead higher and feminine.

 

He suddenly finds himself with an armful of familiar dark hair as Iris launches herself at him laughing. She isn’t that young girl anymore, instead a brilliant young woman who had fought by his side the daemons from Hammerhead and strode into Insomnia at the head of a crowd of refugees.

 

“You _idiot._ Where have you been for the past two years?!”

 

“Eh, you know, around. Somehow I don’t remember you being this excited whenever you visited Hammerhead back in the day.”

 

Iris sighs.  “I don’t think anyone could be happy then.”

 

“But you’re back now! Cindy’s here too you know, we’ve both missed you. The others didn’t tell us where you went to after you left the Citadel. I mean, I’m not surprised my brother didn’t know but I thought Ignis would have at least kept tabs.”

 

Prompto thinks of the invitation that he slides back into his pocket, how it had appeared in the mail one day even though he had tried to made sure no one knew of his location even if he wound up returning back to Insomnia in the end.

 

It hadn’t been hard, the year after the Dawn had brought refugees teaming to Insomnia, all seeking the guidance and protection of the new King. It had been easy enough to slip into the masses, to be just another one of those nameless in the camps and after, to claim he wanted a fresh start.

 

The scourge scars helped too, ironically. At least they helped ward off unwanted conversations, the scourge still a wound fresh in people’s minds.

 

“He probably did,” Prompto confesses, then they round a bend into the hall and run straight into the subject of their conversation. For a moment, he thinks of turning tail, but Iris is there so it’s a moot point.

 

Stepping up, he lingers around Ignis’ periphery until the other acknowledges his presence

 

“Prompto,” Ignis gives him a nod but doesn’t look up from the papers he’s running his hands over. He’s dressed in a tuxedo, hair impeccably styled. He looks good. He looks proud. Prompto doesn’t quite know if it’s because of the event that seems to be running like clockwork, smiling guests beneath chandeliers carrying champagne flutes, or because this event is finally the culmination of a journey begun fifteen years ago

 

“I’m glad to see that you are well,” He remarks, like he’s completely unsurprised to meet Prompto here.

 

No surprise there.

 

“Good to see you too Iggy,” Prompto replies, and it’s sincere even though he says the old nickname with a cheeky lilt.

 

He had been sincere too the day he left the Citadel, the day Noct had broke the news (like he didn’t always know it) and Ignis had looked slightly crushed as he tried to explain. It’s for the good of the people; it’s for the good of Lucis.

 

How could Prompto compete with that?

 

At that Ignis does pause and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “Now that’s something I haven’t heard in a while. Most people seem to have started running at the sight of me now. Like this wedding is going to plan itself.”

 

He passes the some of the paper in his hands to a staff who steps up when he beckons, penned in his still precise penmanship, waving in the direction of the main doors to the hall and talking about music and choirs and...baby chocobos?

 

“Baby chocobos?”

 

“Noct’s idea. He said that if anything could get you to come back, it’ll be baby chocobos.”

 

Prompto folds his arms defensively. “Hey, what does that mean? I would...I would have come back.”

 

Eventually.

 

Even though they are bantering like nothing between them had ever changed, the weight of his two years of absence still hangs over them.

 

Ignis adjusts his visor.“You should go see Noct”

  
“Oy Blondie,” A familiar voice, deep and booming, cuts across the hall and Prompto mentally checks off the urge to run.

 

“Glady,” Iris scowls as she ducks out of the way of her brother’s hand, but Gladio still manages to ruffle up her hair anyway.

 

He looks up and down Prompto who stifles the urge to shift uncomfortably.

 

“You haven’t changed.”

 

“Neither have you,” Prompto retorts, rocking to his tiptoes to glare up at Gladio the best he can.

 

Gladio, still infuriatingly tall and buff as ever, glares right back down at him. “Go see Noct or I’ll drag you there myself.”

 

“Faster than you, big guy.”

 

He leaps into the crowd and vanishes down a corridor, ducking into the first free room he spots. Then the doorknob clicks again and Prompto whirls behind a window curtain when he realises he’s not alone. Peering out, he catches a glimpse of neatly swept blonde hair and a sweeping white dress.

 

“I...don’t think I’m supposed to see the bride before the groom,” Prompto remarks as he gives up on his hiding place. Luna blinks in surprise, breaking out into a delighted smile and throwing down the candlestick she had picked up.

 

“Oh Prompto,” Luna sighs, gathering up both his hands in hers. “It’s so good to see you again. We’ve missed you.”

 

Her hands are worn and tired from healing the sick these long years of darkness, but they are warm.

 

“Congratulations Luna. You’ll be happy with Noct. I’m sure,” He really does mean it.

 

He does.

 

“Prompto,” There’s a soft expression in her eyes, knowing in the way only Luna has ever only been. “Noctis is in the other room.”

 

“I don’t-”

 

_“Go.”_

 

Luna gives him an encouraging nod as he lays his hands over the cold brass door knob. And how could one defy the Oracle?

 

Before him, pacing a trail into the plush royal carpet as he struggles with the gold button on his deep blue overcoat, is Noctis, looking just as Prompto remembered from two years back - duh, his brain fills in. They’re thirty five now, not teens. How much more could they change?

 

Prompto doesn’t realise he is holding his breath until Noctis speaks.

 

“Look Ignis, I know you said I shouldn’t have had the dessert tart thing yesterday but I ate it secretly anyway but this is no reason for this damn jacket button not to-”

 

He can’t help it - it’s just….so like Noctis that Prompto lets go of the breath he’d been holding and starts laughing.

 

“Really dude?”

 

“Prom-” Noctis turns so fast he almost trips over his feet and a lifetime ago, Prompto would have whipped his camera out and snapped a blackmail picture worthy for a report or two, but...okay no, this is just too good a chance to pass up on.

 

_“Promp!”_

 

Noctis tries to scowl, but the relief breaks through in his eyes, joy like a breaking ray of sunlight in the dusky blue.

 

“I- I thought you wouldn’t come, I-” He is smiling now, his whole demeanour lifting and Prompto hadn’t realised how far slumped his ...best friend’s shoulders had become over these years.

 

“Couldn’t miss my best buddy’s wedding, could I?”

 

Prompto feels a bit guilty as he watches Noctis flinch at his words. His arms are so tightly folded his wrists are aching a little.

 

“It’s been two years-”

 

“Better than ten,” Prompto mumbles under his breath, except it’s loud in this room with only them two and Noct winces, lets his expression fall, looks guilty.

 

“Prompto, I know that-” Noctis says, starts to explain but Prompto isn’t standing for this,

 

“Just….just stop, okay?”

 

“The hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life was to walk away from you. But Noct, that is the best choice I have ever made in my life. And if I could do it all over again, I would.”

When he had been eighteen, he thought he could take on the world if Noct was by his side. It didn’t matter what the old nobles said - they were old and stuffy and stuck in their ways; it didn’t matter what the Council said - they didn’t understand the truth about both of them.

Nothing else mattered.

( even though in his heart, Prompto’d agreed with them. Noct couldn’t see, how could he? He was the prince, he was Noct. Prompto was just….Prompto.)

Except it had. It had worn him down in ways that he never realised until they left Insomnia. Left him so exhausted that he had welcomed the hunts and battles that their journey had brought, because life or death made thinking simple. There was no need for extra thoughts when they were fighting desperately for their lives.

And then Noct had gone into that damn Crystal, leaving him with nothing but his thoughts for ten years. Ten long, dark years, wondering what could’ve been if he had been a little braver, a little stronger...a little more selfish. Then at the very end, he realised he was only losing himself in this relentless circle of self doubt and destruction.

“You’ll be happy with Luna. Everyone will be happy,” Prompto points out, ignoring the small pang in his chest. “I will be happy for you too Noct. You two...are good together. Probably always meant to be together.”

“Please Prom,” Noctis says softly and Prompto hates how it still makes him stop in his tracks, hopeful.

“You make me stronger,” Noct confesses, reaches out to hold his warily. He tightens his fingers around his when Prompto doesn’t pull away. “You gave me the strength to sit on the throne the first time for what I thought it’ll be my last.”

He hangs his head, shifts ever closer and Prompto can see it now, the weight of the kingdom on one man’s weary shoulders. It’s not fair, he knows - he should be by Noct’s side to help and support, but he just hadn’t, wasn’t, _isn’t_ strong enough.

Inner demons are hard to fight with the world against you too.

“I’m sorry.”

“I understand. I’m...I’m sorry I can't be strong enough for you. I really am.” Noct pulls away, even though the edges of his fingers curl up hesitantly.

“....Nah,” Prompto decides, grabbing his best friend’s, his King, his...partner by the hand. “You’re a good King Noct. That’s what you are and always have been.”

“Now go be a King.”

* * *

**Avis:**

_ > Prompto? _  
_ > PROMPTO??? _ _  
_ > PROMPTO WHERE ARE YOU?

_ > YOU DIDN’T GET THROWN INTO THE DUNGEON DID YOU? _  
_ > ARE YOU OKAY??? _  
_ > WHERE ARE YOU? _  
_  
_ >I’m calling Mateo!!!!

**Mateo:**

_ > Prompto what the fuck why’s the intern freaking out to me you better get me those pictures or you’re fired you hear! _

 

“Oh _shit.”_

* * *

“Where’s Luna?”

 

“Probably with Nyx,” Noct shrugs, gesturing for Prompto to scoot over and joining him on the narrow roof awning he’d been tucked on, running through the viewfinder the photos of the day. He’s switched out his royal robes for a faded white t-shirt and black slacks.

 

“I heard you ate all the cake,” Noct says and pouts, like he’s seventeen again and not thirty five and the King of Lucis.

 

“I’m sure you can ask Ignis to make it again.”

 

“I tried. He said if he made it whenever I just asked, it wouldn't’ be a special cake anymore.”

 

“Well too bad buddy-” Prompto starts to say, except Noct’s hands sweep up to cup his jaw and tilt his chin down for a soft, glancing kiss.

 

“Mm, tastes delicious,” Noct grins and Prompto stuffs down the urge to shove Noct off the roof. Namely because that’ll be treason.

 

“With all due respect Your Majesty, you’re the worst.”

 

“I’m not a King,” Noct says, tucking his legs up and wrapping his arms around his knees. He’s all grown up now, Prompto too, they all are, but sitting here like this, it’s like very little has changed. Or maybe deep down inside nothing had.

 

“Not here, with you. I’m just Noct. Thirty five and still doesn’t have a fucking clue what he’s doing.”

 

“As a citizen of Lucis I am rather concerned to hear that-”

 

“And as your king, I suppose a loyal citizen deserves a reward.”

 

Noct’s arm is a comforting weight around his shoulder and Prompto sighs as he leans into his side. The gold laced jacket, annoyingly, is a bit scratchy, made from the same, stiff material that all ceremonial outfits seem to be made.

 

“...I’m sorry Prompto,”

 

“I know,” Prompto turns to bury his head into Noct’s collar. It’s familiar, and comforting. “I guess I just needed time to...find myself.”

 

“...Have you?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Noct makes a soft, contemplative noise in response.

 

“Mm...that’s okay.”

 

“We’ll be okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://sushicorps.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/sushicorps/)
> 
> edit: I am that idiot who did not realise she missed out the SUMMARY this is why you do not rush fics at 1am.


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